Page 92 of Catching Feeling

I love the determined expression that passes over his face, and I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. I appreciate the sudden bravado.

The entrance of the deep red fun house is covered in various shades of graffiti and its faded original art.

“Enter at your own risk?” he reads out loud, groaning. “Damnit, Viv.”

“It’s just graffiti. It’s okay,” I reassure him.

He doesn’t look the least bit assured, so I turn to face him, rising on my tiptoes and pressing my mouth against his in a sweet, chaste kiss that immediately turns heated when he grasps my hips and pulls me toward him, his tongue slipping past my lips.

I pull back and smile. “There, now you’ve got all the courage you need. C’mon, let’s go.”

His hand is tight around mine as we duck under the half sheet of plywood that covers the door.

Holy shit… The inside is even creepier than the outside, full of life-size clowns with terrifying faces and mirrors that distort your body. It’s so dark in here, even with the flashlights, still not enough to counter the blanket of darkness. The floorboards creak beneath our feet, creating a creepy soundtrack the further we walk.

This is freakin’ awesome.

I snap a few photos with the camera and then press deeper into the house with Reese on my heels.

Suddenly, there’s a loud bang from the other side of the house, and he stiffens beside me.

“What the fuck was that?”

Turning, I shine my flashlight around us and see nothing. “It’s just the building settling. This place is old and has been abandoned forever.”

He’s just on edge and thinking that everything is something coming to drag him away to the underworld. He’s so close to my back that I can feel the heat of his body on me, his hand splaying on my hip, holding me in place.

“I don’t like this sh?—”

A loud crash causes us to both jump, cutting him off.

“Yeah, and tell me what the fuck that was, Sweet Tart,” he whisper-yells.

My eyes widen. “Um… a ghost?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, fuck this. We’re getting out of here. Right the fuck now.”

“Bu—” He cuts me off by bending down and throwing me over his shoulder in a single swoop. Without hesitation, he turns on his heel and carries me right out of the fun house in an almost sprint.

“Nope. I’m done. We came, you saw, and now we’re getting the fuck out of here before something drags us down to hell.”

I’m giggling so hard I might actually pee my pants. How is he moving so fast carrying a whole-ass person on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes?

“You can put me down now, you caveman!”

“Nope, not till we’re safely out of this bitch,” he mutters.

He is such a nut. I lift my head and watch as we pass through the quiet, dark park, and my heart squeezes at the thought of him facing his fears for me.

Reese did this despite the fact that he’s terrified of all things spooky, just because it was something I mentioned and because he wanted to make me happy.

“Thank you for facing your fear for me tonight.” I tell Reese when he’s “safely” gotten me in the car, buckled me into the seat, and climbed in his side.

He glances over at me from the driver’s seat and smirks, “Anything for you, Sweet Tart. But next time? Can we please just watch a movie about this shit so I don’t have a heart attack at twenty-two?”

“Or maybe next time we bring actual ghost-hunting equipment so we’re prepared.”

His expression turns panicked, and I laugh. “Just kidding.”

---